you're my excuse to steal. cause your eyes are like daro.
acknowledgment of the beauty that flows through ur veins.
no one is ever proud anymore of who and what they are. Of their nation. Of their religion. Of their face. and their fucking beautiful skin color. Everyone's ashamed, and so willingly to hide behind masks of invisibility hoping that no one will ever notice that their black, that their desi, that their...human really.
I was talking to this stranger my friend introduced me to. why? cause we're both bored w/ nothing else better to do. So we're talking. and a lot of our convo, is about how we're both very different individuals. How we're both teenage indians who don't really fit into the regular mold of the term. Later I find out that the kid I was talking to wasn't a stranger. He's this guy who I went to elementary school with... I find it so sad, how we both wanted to make clear that we weren't who we are. We weren't typical indians..... but the thing is. we are. He's so indian that it's crazy. and so am I. and u know what? I don't care anymore. I love being who I am even with all the trash that comes along with it.
I love my long wavy black indian hair, I love the brown skin I reside in, I love the depth of the culture I was born in, I love the logical religion I stumbled upon, I love the charming desi boys who everyone hates on, I love my indian eyes and how curvey they are, I love my physical form and how wide my hips are; I'm a full figured woman and theres nothing fucking wrong with that. I would rather be as plump as I am, then to have a white girls body. I love the morals and shyness that are instilled in me through culture. Most of all I love India. As fucking gay as that sounds. I mean it with all my heart. The geological setting and the stunning beauty of it, the history and everything that has gone down there, the texture and the color of it's culture, the caste system and it's poverty, the love and the sensuality which I don't get how people can fucking not see it, cause every little thing about the culture is just over-saturated with. India is exactly where I would want to be from. It indulges in every type of beauty thats known to man and it has a sense of morality attached to the nation. even the whores are adorned in shame, bells and white flowers. and I can't believe I ever hated being who I was when I was younger. Give me my white saris and my two inch wide payal. i'll wear my hair down and put kohl on my eyes till they resemble the dark love inside of yours. I'll testify to how beautiful india and it's women are. cause for once I'm filled with pride of who I am.
When I grow older and get married with an indian fighter of my choice, we'll both move back to a rural area in India where industrialism has not touched it's blood stained soil. and we'll live there till the children I bore with him grow old enough to carry on with their lives w/o our support. Then him and I will decide what it is to be done with our lives, because dear I am not going to die in a state of peace inside my own home. I am destined for bigger and greater things than that. Who knows what my future will hold for me. One things for sure, my life will not be a life of static.... beauty. culture and a flavour for the blessing that is life. what more can one ask for in a nation?
no one is ever proud anymore of who and what they are. Of their nation. Of their religion. Of their face. and their fucking beautiful skin color. Everyone's ashamed, and so willingly to hide behind masks of invisibility hoping that no one will ever notice that their black, that their desi, that their...human really.
I was talking to this stranger my friend introduced me to. why? cause we're both bored w/ nothing else better to do. So we're talking. and a lot of our convo, is about how we're both very different individuals. How we're both teenage indians who don't really fit into the regular mold of the term. Later I find out that the kid I was talking to wasn't a stranger. He's this guy who I went to elementary school with... I find it so sad, how we both wanted to make clear that we weren't who we are. We weren't typical indians..... but the thing is. we are. He's so indian that it's crazy. and so am I. and u know what? I don't care anymore. I love being who I am even with all the trash that comes along with it.
I love my long wavy black indian hair, I love the brown skin I reside in, I love the depth of the culture I was born in, I love the logical religion I stumbled upon, I love the charming desi boys who everyone hates on, I love my indian eyes and how curvey they are, I love my physical form and how wide my hips are; I'm a full figured woman and theres nothing fucking wrong with that. I would rather be as plump as I am, then to have a white girls body. I love the morals and shyness that are instilled in me through culture. Most of all I love India. As fucking gay as that sounds. I mean it with all my heart. The geological setting and the stunning beauty of it, the history and everything that has gone down there, the texture and the color of it's culture, the caste system and it's poverty, the love and the sensuality which I don't get how people can fucking not see it, cause every little thing about the culture is just over-saturated with. India is exactly where I would want to be from. It indulges in every type of beauty thats known to man and it has a sense of morality attached to the nation. even the whores are adorned in shame, bells and white flowers. and I can't believe I ever hated being who I was when I was younger. Give me my white saris and my two inch wide payal. i'll wear my hair down and put kohl on my eyes till they resemble the dark love inside of yours. I'll testify to how beautiful india and it's women are. cause for once I'm filled with pride of who I am.
When I grow older and get married with an indian fighter of my choice, we'll both move back to a rural area in India where industrialism has not touched it's blood stained soil. and we'll live there till the children I bore with him grow old enough to carry on with their lives w/o our support. Then him and I will decide what it is to be done with our lives, because dear I am not going to die in a state of peace inside my own home. I am destined for bigger and greater things than that. Who knows what my future will hold for me. One things for sure, my life will not be a life of static.... beauty. culture and a flavour for the blessing that is life. what more can one ask for in a nation?